To the End
by Bailation
Summary: A fic dedicated to the end of the Harry Potter era. Moments are captured throughout the lives of the Golden Trio with various people. First chapter has been UPDATED with a few new stories. Last chapter is in honor of Harry's late birthday, July 31st.
1. Ron

His earliest memory had to be the day Fred turned his teddy bear into a spider.

His brothers were playing a game of Quidditch only a few feet off the ground while he sat on the sidelines, watching with two-year-old Ginny and clutching his teddy bear, which he had named Bilius. He had yet to receive a toy broomstick, so he was forced to watch while his Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the twins played on theirs.

His mother was watching her children from the kitchen window, but Ron knew she probably wasn't observing him, as he had a less likely chance of getting hurt than his brothers.

Fred suddenly landed next to him, grinning madly, just as he did before he was about to tease him.

"Hey, Ronnie," he said. "You want a ride?"

He perked up at his brother's offer. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Fred, grinning in a slightly evil manner. "'Course."

So Fred got off and allowed him to mount, for the first time in his life, a toy broom.

The broomstick did not agree with him. It buckled and zoomed every which way, causing him to hold on for dear life. Even though it was only a few feet off the ground, he felt like he was only a speck in the sky. Suddenly, the broom jolted to the side and he was facing the shed, getting closer…closer…

CRASH.

He opened his eyes to see Fred standing above him, glaring down at him. The youngest Weasley brother looked down and saw his brother's broomstick snapped in two. Fred started yelling at him, and he tried apologizing again and again. His teddy bear was nearby, so he grabbed it and attempted to hide behind it.

Suddenly, the bear was no longer a protector for him. The fuzzy fur of the stuffed bear was gone, and in its place, he felt the hairy, spindly body of a very different creature…

He dropped the huge spider he was now holding and screamed. He froze in fear as the creepy creature skidded around before inching its way under the fence and disappearing from view.

He looked up at Fred, who was now laughing so hard he was crying. George had joined him, though he wasn't laughing quite as hard. They both ran back up to the Burrow, leaving their terrified brother frozen in fright.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter wasn't as arrogant as he had expected.<p>

He hadn't ever planned on meeting Harry, but if he did, he would've imagined him to be a cocky, overconfident, haughty, famous prat. He had never anticipated him to be so modest and respectful, so unsure of himself in the wizarding world.

But after they met on the Hogwarts Express, their acquaintance grew into a close friendship, which symbolized the mutual trust that was shared between the two.

Harry was noble, brave, and an overall decent bloke. This was why he, a mediocre bloke with no talent, wondered why on earth Harry had picked him for a best friend. He knew a lot about Harry, but there still were the mysteries about him that everyone still wondered about, of which none of them would ever be likely to know.

* * *

><p>One day in his second year, he visited Hermione in the hospital wing without Harry.<p>

Madam Pomfrey reminded him once again that it was useless talking to a Petrified person, but he ignored her, making his way to his usual chair by Hermione's bedside. He began to talk to her about their progress in finding the Chamber of Secrets; he informed her they were really close to figuring out where it was.

Furthermore, he told her about what they had been doing in class; he knew if she were awake, she would want to keep up on everything happening in each of her classes. He actually had taken notes in History of Magic for her in the last week and stacked them neatly at her bedside.

"We need you back, Hermione," he told her, glancing at her glassy eyes. To him, she looked dead, and it made him shudder to think of her in that way.

He stayed for another hour, just talking to her about their lives, when Madam Pomfrey finally bustled in and told him curfew was in five minutes. He got up, took one last look at Hermione, and was practically shoved out of the hospital wing by the impatient nurse.

* * *

><p>During a good part of his fourth year, Seamus and Dean became his replacement best friends.<p>

It's not like he didn't like Seamus and Dean. They were decent people, kind, pleasant to be around; they just weren't Harry.

He had resented his best mate for a while and the drawing of his name from the Goblet of Fire became a good reason to hate him for being so sneaky. Here he was, already quite famous, and then he needed to enter his name while he was underage to earn even more eternal glory. Harry had told him he hadn't done it, but he was too angry and jealous to care.

Now, he sat in front of Seamus and Dean as they discussed Quidditch and some muggle sport called "soccer" that Dean was into. He sighed and glared over at Harry, who sat with Hermione at the end of the table. Though he was still furious at him, he did rather miss him.

He wished Harry had never gotten himself mixed up into the Triwizard Tournament.

* * *

><p>"What do you reckon they're doing?"<p>

Hermione flashed him a cheeky smile. "You _know_ what they're doing."

He smirked. "I just never thought Harry would get a girlfriend this year, especially since he seems so angry at everyone."

They turned a corner and climbed onto one of the moving staircases, making their way up to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione sighed as she leaned against the banister. "I think that's why Cho will be good for Harry. He needs as many people who can support him as he can get."

He watched her closely, his mind wandering not to Harry and Cho, but to a different relationship. "Yeah, I sp'ose."

She faced him and smiled. "I've an idea. I've noticed you're pretty good at Quidditch, right?"

He shrugged, not sure what game she was playing. They both knew he could fly decently, but lately during practices and especially games, he was a rubbish player.

They got off the staircase and said the password to the Fat Lady, climbing through the portrait hole, and sitting in two cushy armchairs by the fireplace.

"Well, I've been thinking…I'm no good at flying, as you already know…" she rolled her eyes as he smirked at her. "And well…I was wondering if you could teach me sometime?"

His ears burned as he watched her face flush bright scarlet. "Erm…well…sure. Yeah, that would be cool."

She beamed at him, and his heart started beating at a rapid pace. This had started happening right about the time she had shrunk her teeth last year; now he looked at her a bit differently. It also helped that her hair seemed to have tamed itself over the years, and her eyes seemed to shine brighter whenever she saw him; whether it was out of anger or happiness, it didn't matter…

"Ron!"

He shook himself from his reverie, and found her glaring at him. "What?"

"I just thought that maybe we could do it sometime...after hours?"

He grinned at her and leaned closer to her. "Hermione Granger, wishing to sneak out after curfew? What is the world coming to?"

She smiled and pushed him away. "Shut up. After what you and Harry have gotten me into over the years, sneaking out is the least of my problems."

His grin grew bigger as he watched her blush grow warmer in the dim light of the room. "I think we can arrange that."

* * *

><p>The waters sparkled as the sinking sun reflected off the glassy surface. He looked away, feeling like he didn't deserve seeing such a beautiful sight. He sat in the smallest room in Shell Cottage, waiting for Bill to return so he could finally explain himself.<p>

The door opened, and Bill stepped in, looking solemn. "Alright, Ron; what happened?"

He was silent. After a moment, he was able to say, "I did something. Something really terrible."

Bill's eyes only pondered him as if he was an interesting piece of art. He took this as a sign to continue.

He tried to think of a better way of confessing, but he could think of nothing, so he just came straight out with it. "I left."

Bill's expression changed a bit; surprise crossed his face. This caused everything that had been building up in his brother to suddenly come flooding out.

He began to openly sob as he told him everything, or at least as much as he was allowed to tell him. Even though he was angry with Harry, he could never tell anyone about the Horcruxes when he promised Harry to keep it a secret.

"She was screaming at me to come back, Bill!" he sobbed. "She begged me to come back, and I ignored her!"

His face fell into his palms and her voice still echoed through his head. He felt a hand on his shoulder and Bill's voice above him:

"You'll find them again," His voice was tight, as if he was struggling to not yell at him. "And they'll forgive you, they always do."

He highly doubted this, but he was silent as his brother left the room, leaving him to solitude. He hadn't expected Bill to be sympathetic, because they both knew he had acted like a real prat toward his friends. The eldest Weasley brother had never been one to feel sorry for people who didn't deserve it, and every one of his siblings knew this.

* * *

><p>After her torture, he was afraid she would never be the same again.<p>

Quite frankly, he was wrong. When she woke after being knocked unconscious by that godforsaken chandelier, she sobbed into his chest, and he embraced her, cursing Bellatrix to a thousand different kinds of hells, praying that she would some day meet the fate Hermione had been forced to endure.

Hermione was weak, but by some miracle, with all her injuries, she was able to accompany him to Dobby's small funeral by the beach. When he saw her walking toward him, he knew that she would eventually heal and be the same Hermione as she had always been.

Later that night, when Bill had pulled Harry aside to talk, he pulled her aside in the shadows of the doorway.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked her, concern for her well-being still the top priority in his mind.

She nodded, smiling slightly at him. "I'm fine, Ron. Really."

She still sounded weak, he noticed. But he didn't push the matter. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you in time," he told her. "I shouldn't have left you alone with her; I should've fought harder…"

He trailed off when she grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly. "Ron, there was nothing you could do. You've done more than enough for me tonight, you – you saved me, Ron."

He shook his head in disbelief of the amazing witch in front of him. Even after the traumatic event she had endured, she still was so strong in spirit. It made his love for her grow stronger.

He wanted to kiss her, but as if on cue, Harry called to them, beckoning them to speak to Griphook with him.

He cursed Harry for stealing their moment, but he quickly shrugged it off, because Hermione was looking so drained of energy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and followed Harry to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Someday soon, they would get another chance.

* * *

><p>"Ron, you have to let me go. Just for a few weeks."<p>

He frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets as Hermione turned away to stuff more possessions in her small beaded bag. She insisted on going alone to retrieve her parents from Australia, but she couldn't possibly leave him at home to worry if she was safe…

"I honestly don't see what the big deal is, Hermione," he told her. "What's wrong with having someone there to watch your back?"

"Because I have to do this alone," she shot back. "I can't explain it – it's just the way it is –"

"Hermione!"

She turned and looked at him with an exasperated expression. He opened his mouth and closed it again, looking like a fish out of water. "I just need to know you're safe. I need to protect you."

"From what?" she asked softly, her eyes shining. "What could be out there that is a threat to me? The war is over, Ron!"

"Hermione, you _know _that is a load of rubbish!" he yelled, getting impatient with her excuses. "There are still tons of Death Eaters loose, and I'm sure they're just waiting to pounce on anyone who was against Voldemort, especially a Muggleborn witch who happens to be the best friend of Harry Potter!"

"I can take care of myself, Ron!" she shouted, her face now a bright red. "I saved your and Harry's arses numerous times in the last year, in case you don't remember, and I don't need you to protect me!"

"But _I _need to protect you!" he burst out, stepping closer to her. "Don't you see? Hermione, I can't allow you to go alone because I can't handle losing you! If you were to go missing, or get captured or k-killed…" he ran a hand through his hair as he stuttered, unable to imagine the horrific feeling if he were to find out she was dead. "I would blame myself for letting you go alone. I wouldn't be able to take it, Hermione. It – It would be the end of my world."

Her eyes were sparkling with tears as she looked up at him. Finally, after an eternity of silence, she extended a hand to him. He gave a slight smile and gingerly took it.

"I thought I needed to do this alone," she told him. "I thought I was _meant_ to do it alone, you know? But I guess after everything we've been through, I'm not meant to do anything alone anymore."

He smiled at her and gently kissed her forehead as they squeezed hands and Disapparated on the spot.

* * *

><p>He was sent by Hermione to retrieve the groom for the start of the wedding.<p>

He approached the door and knocked, poking his head inside the room. "Mate, it's time."

Harry Potter stood at the window, his fingers fumbling to secure his tie as he watched the guests gather in the backyard of the Burrow.

"This isn't happening." The statement made his best man raise an eyebrow, and he took a step closer to the groom.

"This _can't _be happening!" said Harry, finally giving up on the tie and facing his friend. The redhead took pity on him and looped the tie for him, finally grasping his shoulders.

"What are you one about, Harry?" he asked. "You're the bloody Chosen One, mate! Getting married isn't the end of the world compared to what you've done –"

"To be honest, I think I'd rather take on Voldemort right now," said Harry hopelessly. "I'm going to screw something up, mate, I just know it. Or she's going to take one look at me and take off running –"

"Shut it," he scolded him and scowled at the groom reproachfully. "If there's one thing I'm sure about my sister, is that she's mad about you, mate. There's no way she's turning out of this."

This seemed to bring Harry to his senses, and he nodded slowly as his Adam's Apple bobbed nervously. His friend thumped him on the back bracingly and they left the room to attend the ceremony.

* * *

><p>He had seen the rose in her hair numerous times.<p>

Hermione wore the small silk rose in her bushy mane only when she would go out with him, as if it was a symbol that represented them as a couple. She wore it when they attended their first Ministry Ball together a few months after the war. She wore it on their first official date, which consisted of a muggle movie and a cheap dinner (He was rather tight on money, and he had refused to allow Hermione to pay).

When he left for his first mission as an Auror only three weeks out of training, Hermione hadn't worn the rose. He hadn't expected her to, but he reckoned she might surprise him.

The Ministry was sending the Aurors to different parts of the world to pick up the pieces left by the horrors of the war. He and Harry, who was already second-in-command to the Head Auror, were sentenced to a portion of Ireland, which had been torn apart by the Death Eaters.

It was difficult leaving England, especially because of Hermione. He would be away for a month at least, while she went back to Hogwarts to complete her education.

On the day he left, she still had two days before she returned to school from winter break. On the platform, they exchanged goodbyes, kisses, and hugs, promising each other that they would write every day.

As the train boarded, Hermione pushed a small package into his hand. "Promise me you won't open this until you're just about to fall asleep tonight."

He hesitated, then grinned. "Alright."

That night, by the light of his wand, he opened the package. Inside was the small silk rose. It smelt of her, sweet like the garden of flowers she had planted in their backyard. He kissed it, tucked it under his pillow and fell asleep soundly.

* * *

><p>He had a special relationship with his first niece. He supposed this was because she was the first child of the new Weasley generation, save from Teddy. He never felt like he had the same kind of way with Teddy that he had with Victoire. He wasn't related to Lupin's son in any way, and the child belonged to Harry, in the loosest term possible.<p>

But Victoire, she was the first child to be born from his brothers. She did everything first out of all her cousins, and she seemed to take a liking to her Uncle Ron especially.

He adored her from the moment she was born. She was a new life that he could love; she was the child he got to entertain when her parents grew weary.

At Percy and Audrey's wedding, he was her date, only when Hermione was dancing with someone else. He would twirl her around in the middle of the dance floor, her flower girl dress spinning out around her.

She was adored by everyone, but most of the time, she only had eyes for her Uncle Ron. He was her playmate, and she loved him because on many occasions, he acted just like she did.

* * *

><p>The events that had taken place in his life in the last year had caused him great happiness. His life was suddenly better than it ever had been, and he didn't know how it could improve.<p>

His wife was lounging on the porch of their little cottage at about four in the afternoon, a book in her hands as usual. He looked down from the loft where they slept, and he could just see her legs stretched out on the lounge chair through the screen door. He grinned and began to climb down the ladder to the lower level of the tiny house. He opened the creaky screen door, and Hermione looked up at him, beaming.

"Morning, love," he said, kissing the top of her head. He sat in the chair next to her, staring at her with (he reckoned) a stupid grin plastered on his face.

Ever since they had gotten married a year ago, the two of them were in exceptionally good moods. They rarely fought like they used to, and they spent a lot of time traveling the globe and exploring other countries together. Their lives were the simplest they had ever been, even with their jobs at the Ministry. They were rarely apart, and they relished in the idea of being together forever.

She had noticed that he was staring. To this day, if she caught him looking at her for a moment too long, her face still turned a deep red. "What?"

His grin grew wider, but he didn't look away. "Nothing," he said, "I just don't know how I ended up with such a brilliant, beautiful witch for a wife."

She looked round at him, smiling warmly. "You didn't. Your wife is quite average –"

"She is not."

Hermione looked taken aback as he leaned closer to her, taking her hand and kissing it tenderly. "Don't ever let anyone tell you you're less than amazing, because that would be a complete lie."

She smiled again and leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips. A moment later, she had returned to her book.

He stared at her for a moment longer before getting up from his chair and leaning against the porch pillar as he faced her. She looked up at his transition of movement.

"You want to go to Italy?" he asked randomly. "I know you've always wanted to go there, especially because of all the history –"

"Ron, we just came back from Greece two weeks ago!" she exclaimed, but she was smiling, like she really liked the idea of Italy.

He only shot her a meaningful glance that told her he didn't mind traveling again. She positively beamed, and practically jumped into his arms, kissing him fiercely.

She broke apart just as quickly, whispering, "I'll owl the Ministry to let them know we'll be out for a week."

She kissed him once more before retreated inside the cottage, leaving him grinning like an idiot on the porch.

Yes, life most certainly was good.

* * *

><p>"Ron, please don't be mad."<p>

Hermione's pleading eyes were frantically searching his for any trace of anger. "I couldn't wait any longer; I needed to know what we were having."

He only stared down at her, his eyes flickering back and forth from her eyes to her bulging belly.

"Ron, say something!" she burst out desperately, her hands clasped together.

"How – how can I be mad?" he asked her, his brain stunned in amazement. He smiled slightly. "I'm having a baby girl."

Hermione's look of terror and worry melted into one of relief and happiness. "So you're not angry?"

He slowly leaned toward her and placed his lips on hers in response.

* * *

><p>Within Weasley Wizard Wheezes, he held his daughter up to the glass that held the Pygmy Puffs in their cage.<p>

"You want to hold one, Rosie?" the one-year-old nodded silently, intrigued by the small puffballs. He smiled and opened the cage, withdrawing an orange one and giving it to his daughter, his hand hovering under hers as he made sure she didn't drop it.

He had taken his daughter to Diagon Alley in order to give Hermione a break. She was having a day out with Ginny, Angelina, Audrey and Fleur. He didn't mind though. He hadn't gotten to spend much time with his daughter because of work. The Auror Department kept him late after every other Ministry worker had gone home, and most nights, he came home to both his daughter and his wife asleep.

Rose giggled as the small creature nuzzled her hand, shaking him from his thoughts. He grinned and said, "Mummy's not going to be very happy if we bring one of these home." She giggled again and looked up at him with the same beautiful, brown eyes as Hermione's. She was a quiet child, unlike either of her parents had ever been. She knew a few words, but other than that, she was awfully easy to please.

They watched the Pygmy Puffs for a few more moments before George came over and fawned over Rose, tickling her and making her laugh like mad. For some reason, he seemed to favor Rose over his other nieces and nephews. He would joke that it was because he waited so long for her parents to get together, but sometimes his brother wasn't sure he was joking.

"So, are you up for one of the Puffs, Ron?" asked George, raising an eyebrow as he removed a green one from the cage.

"You think I should?" he asked as he watched Rose cuddle the orange Pygmy Puff. "I guarantee you I'd pay for it when we get home; Hermione wanted to wait for pets until Rose was older."

"But Rose _really_ wants one," George nuzzled the Pygmy Puff in his niece's hand, and grinned at him evilly. His daughter looked at the small creature in her hand, and then up at her father with huge, pleading, brown eyes, which Ron always had trouble resisting. Even at such a young age, she knew exactly how to get her way.

"Fine. Just…don't tell Hermione, alright? Let me do that." He paid his brother, who gave him a discount, and they left the shop with the orange Pygmy Puff in a small cage.

"What are you going to call it, Rosie?" he asked his daughter, who was looking at the creature adoringly. She stared at it a bit longer, and finally said, "Book."

He laughed and gently kissed her forehead. "Think you might want to rethink that, love."

* * *

><p>"Ron, are you going out?"<p>

He looked at her like she was mad; he was sitting next to her in bed quietly reading a Quidditch magazine and making no attempt for the door. However, she raised her eyebrows, and he knew if he said the wrong thing, he would feel the wrath of his very emotional, pregnant wife.

"Yes, love," he sighed as he got up and began to slip on his shoes. "What do you need?"

"Well, I have a grocery list, just a few things, so would you mind going by the market and picking them up for me?" She handed him the list and he groaned internally; he hated shopping. However, he wasn't about to complain to Hermione. He had learned during her first pregnancy that arguing with an expecting hormonal woman is the last thing any man wants to deal with.

"Alright," he said as he pulled on his coat. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Ron. I know you hate to do it, but I can barely get on my feet."

The sincerity in her voice suddenly made the errand less of a hassle and more of just a necessity for his wife and children. Why was he complaining? Hermione was the one who was carrying his child, she was the one who usually did all the housework, shopping, and child care. Who was he to complain about a simple errand?

"It's no problem," he told her, leaning forward to gently capture her lips with his. "It'll be a privilege." She laughed as he winked at her and Disapparated on the spot.

* * *

><p>His son was going to Hogwarts.<p>

He had dreaded this day for the last few months, and of course, today he watched him push his trolley onto the platform.

Ever since Rose had left for school two years ago, her parents had turned their main attention to their son. Now, both children were leaving them, and their parents were feeling the empty nest syndrome.

As the train boarded, he knelt down to his son and gave him a large parcel.

"Here's something you can remember us by, Hugo," he told him, grinning at his son.

Hugo smiled and opened the package. Inside, there was his father's old set of Wizard Chess, which he had always admired, seeing as it was a special edition his father had received in Diagon Alley when he was fifteen.

His son grinned and flung himself at his father, hugging him tightly. The older Weasley embraced him just as strongly, never wanting him to leave.

The train whistle blew, and he rose, ruffling his son's hair. "Don't look for too much trouble, alright mate?"

Hugo smiled and ran onto the train, finding a window, and waving next to his sister, who had already boarded. The train started to chug away, and soon both his children were out of sight.

He wrapped an arm around Hermione, who had tears sparkling in her eyes, and they both Apparated home.

* * *

><p>"Ron, if you don't stop pacing, I'll hex you."<p>

He sat down heavily on the couch, picked up a magazine and flipped through it, not paying attention to any of the writing within it. He tossed it aside, and resumed pacing.

Hermione sighed and stood up, grabbing his arm and spinning him toward her.

"Ron, she's a sensible girl. She's not going to do anything that you're worried about."

"It's not _her_ I don't trust!" he burst out. "It's _him_!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, honestly Ron. Scorpius is a nice boy –"

"He's a Malfoy, Hermione! In case you don't remember, they supported Voldemort, and their home was where you got that scar on your neck!"

Hermione stared at him, her hand flying to her throat to feel the thin scar that was carved into her flesh, which was the result of Bellatrix's knife being pressed against her skin.

He knew he had gone too far, because he could feel his ears burning. He looked away and muttered, "Sorry."

She stepped closer to him and tilted his chin so his eyes met hers. "In case _you _don't remember, Scorpius Malfoy wasn't even _born_ until years after the day I was tortured. And his father has yet to contact us in any way, so I don't think he's keen on having a lifelong rivalry. Rose likes Scorpius, and he's nothing like the rest of his family; he's respectful. So please, Ron, for the love of Merlin, let it _go_."

She left the room, and Ron fell onto the couch, his eyes flickering to the clock every two seconds as he sulkily waited for his daughter to come home from her date with his old rival's son.

* * *

><p>He was beginning to slow down. He could feel it in his bones as the years of being an Auror began to catch up with him.<p>

Rose's wedding to Scorpius Malfoy had been only a year ago, and Hugo had moved to Romania to study dragons under an apprenticeship under Charlie Weasley. They still visited every once in a while, but otherwise he and Hermione had the house to theirselves.

One night, as he looked in the mirror, he saw the many scars that held so many memories on his body. He saw the welts that the brains had left him when he was attacked in the Ministry in his fifth year. He saw the scar that was left when Hermione had accidentally Splinched him when he was seventeen. A long, thin slash was cut through his chest, an Auror accident when he had been fighting former Death Eaters at the age of twenty. Hermione had seen it and cried at the sight of another scar on his body.

He pulled his shirt on and sighed. There were many other smaller scars from his years of battles and fighting, but he couldn't remember them all; there were too many.

He turned around and came face to face with Hermione. She smiled at him and he felt like they could've been eighteen again. She gripped his arms and turned him around so he was facing the mirror again. Her reflection's eyes met his and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You know, all those scars only show how bravely you've fought," she told him. "And as much as I hate hearing that you've gotten hurt, I love seeing them. I know the reasons you became an Auror, Ron. You wanted to protect everyone you loved; you wanted to rid the world of evil so we could have a better life. And you did that." She kissed him on the cheek and smiled at him as she left the room.

He watched her go, and looked at himself in the mirror once more, this time smiling slightly at his reflection.

* * *

><p>Death had visited him more than others throughout his lifetime. He had witnessed his brother's death when he was only eighteen, too young to feel that kind of pain. And his years at Hogwarts were never death-free.<p>

But none of those deaths made him feel the way he did when Hermione left him.

She was ninety-one when she passed, so she wasn't too young, thank Merlin. Nevertheless, it tore him apart to know that his wife wasn't with him anymore.

Now, he wandered through the graveyard very slowly, searching for the headstone he craved to see.

He stopped in front of the large stone that was rather new and taller than him. The wizarding world had sent him money to chip in for such a large grave; they wanted to honor the witch that had helped vanquish the Dark Lord. There were flowers pinned to the large headstone, attached randomly by her fans. People had left pictures of her in frames of her at every age, from when she was eighteen to the age she had been when she had died. Notes were posted on almost every inch of the stone. In the center of the headstone, large words read:

HERMIONE GRANGER WEASLEY

September 19, 1979 – October 4, 2070

LOVING MOTHER, WIFE, FRIEND, AND STRENGTH-HOLDER.

One-third of the Golden Trio and helper to the vanquishing of the Dark Lord, the wizarding world honors Hermione for her bravery and outstanding courage during the Second Wizarding War.

Ron sniffed and brushed away a tear as he read the headstone for the millionth time. With a withered hand, he used his wand to conjure a bouquet of everlasting red and black roses. He left them in front of the headstone and carved one last note in small letters above the flowers into the stone:

I love you, Hermione.


	2. Hermione

She never fit in.

Before she went to Hogwarts, she attended a grammar school near her home, and was teased endlessly for her big bushy hair, big teeth, and bossy personality. Numerous times, she would come home crying to her mother, who would make her a cup of tea and tell her everything would be better.

When she attended Hogwarts, it was the same story all over again. The two boys she met on the train were cruel to her, but she had to admit, she had come off rather pushy and bossy to them.

On Halloween night, after Ron Weasley had deeply insulted her, she sat in a stall in the girl's bathroom, crying her eyes out once again. She wanted to go home. Why did she have to be such a know-it-all? Why couldn't she make friends? What was _wrong _with her?

As if someone had answered her thoughts, she was presented with two new friends that night, who were the last people on earth she thought would ever want to be her friends.

Harry and Ron were brave and heroic, true Gryffindors to the end. She knew this was the reason they couldn't let her get killed by that troll; they were much too noble. It just happened to be an extra advantage that the three of them became best friends from that day on.

* * *

><p>Crookshanks was lying sprawled across her bed as she worked tirelessly on the heaping pile of homework that was stacked on her desk. The Time-Turner was tucked securely under her robes, and she felt its cool metal against her rapidly beating heart.<p>

She was completely distracted. She couldn't concentrate knowing that Harry and Ron were furious with her. She remembered the day just a few weeks ago when Snape had called her an "insufferable know-it-all" and Ron had stood up for her, earning a detention at her expense.

Did he really mean it, though? He called her a know-it-all at least once a day. Why would he care if someone else called her that?

She shook her head and put her quill down for the first time in hours. She got up and sat on her bed, lying on her front with her face close to her cat's.

"You don't think I'm a know-it-all, do you?" she asked. Crookshanks raised his head and gave her a blank stare, his beady eyes narrowed against his squished face.

"I'll take that as a yes," she sighed, patting him on the head. "Oh, well…"

She retreated back to her desk and continued to work.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, he's an idiot."<p>

"I know he is," she sighed as she rubbed her temples, attempting to wipe the dried tears from her face. To distract her shaking hands, she began to remove the many bobby pins from her hair, which was already fallen out of its elegant bun. "He's just infuriating, and…" she trailed off, unable to figure out much more to complain about.

"I'm tired of talking about him. Can we talk about something else?"

Ginny smiled and rose from her spot on Hermione's bed. "I think I have something that will take your mind of off him." She left the dorm for a few moments and returned, holding a case of butterbeer.

"Ginny! How'd you get those?"

"I have my sources," she said, grinning as she passed a butterbeer to her friend. She smiled back and shook her hair out of the bun, finally rid of all the bobby pins. After using so much potion to straighten it, it was already returning to its curly state after just a few hours.

"Now, darling," said Ginny, twisting the cap off of her butterbeer, "this may not be as good as, say, firewhiskey –" her older friend laughed – "but it's what we have. Now we're going to drink, we're going to have fun, and we're going to forget all about my idiotic brother and this stupid Ball, alright?"

She smiled, clinking her bottle against Ginny's. "Cheers."

* * *

><p>She knew Ron and Harry had noticed her reaction to her O.W.L. results. It was written all over her face, and she knew that after five years of knowing the two, she couldn't hide her feelings from them.<p>

Harry had disappeared outside; she hadn't quite caught what he had said. Even though she had received the results more than six hours ago, she still was quite upset that she hadn't received 'Outstandings' on all her O.W.L.s.

She was attempting to distract herself from her unsatisfactory work by rearranging Ginny's room, about which she was sure the youngest Weasley would be less than pleased.

There was a knock on the door, and Ron poked his head in. "Hey – What are you doing?" He frowned at the room, which now had a quite different layout than the last time he was in it.

"I'm just –" she shook her head, realizing how silly she must look. "Ginny wanted me to find a new – layout –" She was stumbling over her words now, and she felt her face burn with embarrassment.

"You alright?" Ron's brow wrinkled with concern; clearly he had seen through to her. "You're not still on about those stupid exam results, are you?"

Her temper flared at how laid-back he seemed to be at the whole situation. "Yes, I am! They're not stupid, Ron, they define our future! When we go into our first job, they'll be looking at our O.W.L.s!"

Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Hermione, they're going to judge us on more than just our exam results that we took in our fifth year."

She was silent, biting her lip nervously. "You just don't understand –"

"_I_ don't understand?" asked Ron incredulously, his eyes flashing. This only provoked her further. "Yes, Ron, you! You don't even care enough to study for these exams, and I studied harder than anyone, and I still screwed one exam up!"

Ron was staring at her in disbelief. "Hermione, you're looking at the bloke who didn't get one 'Outstanding' on any of the exams! And I _do_ care! I may not be as brilliant as you, but at least I wouldn't stress about it if I screwed _one _exam up and still receive top marks in our year!"

She suddenly saw things through his point of view. Ron hadn't received one 'Outstanding' on any of the exams, and he even had failed a couple. And here she was, complaining about an exam that she had still passed with rather good marks. What was wrong with her?

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I wish I could be less…controlling and less of a perfectionist, but I can't help it. I'm a complete mess." She sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands.

Immediately, she heard footsteps and the creaking of the mattress as Ron sat down beside her. She felt him wrap an arm around her and tighten it around her shoulders. "You're not a mess. You just need to learn to loosen up a bit."

"But what if I can't do that?" she asked hopelessly, rubbing her temples.

"You can," he said, squeezing her gently. "I've known you a long time, Hermione, and I've learned that it's not impossible to get you to have fun." He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"Why are you so good to me, Ron?"

His ears turned scarlet and she blushed in response as she realized what she had said. He relinquished his arm from around her, and she tried not to look so disappointed. He got up and started toward the door. "Erm…shall we?"

She nodded, still blushing violently. He placed a hand boldly on her back as they left the room, and she beamed, thankful that Ron couldn't see the stupid grin on her face.

* * *

><p>The celebrations of Teddy Lupin's birth ran late into the night. Bill kept passing around the brandy and firewhiskey, insisting more on every empty glass. For the first time in a while, a happy aura floated around Shell Cottage.<p>

It was odd for all of them, being in such happy moods. With the war and death around them, it seemed nothing could just come along as fast as Teddy's birth and brighten the room as fast as it had.

She smiled as she looked around at the beaming people she knew and loved. Ron still looked to be in utter shock at the idea of a baby, but it was slowly fading as his firewhiskey held out. Fleur and Luna were speaking with Remus, who was describing Teddy's rapid eye color ("…like nothing you'd ever seen, he changed it from red to blue to yellow in less than a minute!"). Bill, Harry, and Dean seemed to be talking about the current position of the Ministry in the war. She frowned; even in the happiest of times, Harry could still stay focused on his unfortunate situation.

She never did like firewhiskey, but she already had had two glasses of brandy, which was making her a little tipsy. She floated over to Ron, who was sitting on the couch, and sat down next to him.

"So," she said, "A baby – what do you think of it?"

Ron looked a little startled at her abrupt question, but he seemed to recover quickly. "Erm, its brilliant – yeah, real good. I even forgot Tonks was pregnant, what with all the stuff we've been going through."

She stared at him in admiration, the awkwardness of his answer making her love him even more. Then she asked something that was probably only brandy-induced, because looking back, she would've never asked him sober.

"Have you ever thought of having children?" She asked it so matter-of-factly that she really didn't realize she had asked it until Ron started spluttering and coughing out the firewhiskey he had been trying to drink. When he finally recovered, his face was a burning scarlet.

"Erm…I guess. Yeah, I s'pose. I've never really had time to think of it…"

She nodded, waiting for him to say more. He met her eyes and asked, "Well, what about you? You've ever thought of being a mummy?" He seemed to overcome his embarrassment by teasing her, shooting her a cheeky grin that never failed to melt her insides.

She smiled, allowing thoughts that she didn't usually permit to enter her brain. "Someday. I've always wanted to be a mother, its something I've never doubted I would do." She sighed, suddenly feeling much older. "But I'm not quite sure about it anymore. I don't know how long this war is going to go on, or if we're even going to survive it."

Ron's head whipped around to face her. "Hermione –" he said warningly. She knew he hated it when she doubted if she would live or not. She knew that was the one thing that scared him to death.

"It's true, Ron," she told him. "We've already been through so many near-death experiences this year…for the last seven years, actually. At this point, we don't have much of a chance of living." She downed the rest of her brandy and met Ron's eyes.

He was looking at her incredulously, and with the slight fire in his eyes that, for some reason, she loved to ignite. Without saying a word, he took both his glass and hers and set them on the table nearby. He then grasped her arms with a surprisingly tight grip "Listen to me, Hermione," he said, his voice full of seriousness. "You're not going to die. I won't allow it. You're going to fight through this war, and you're going to do brilliant things, because you've already done so many brilliant things to save my and Harry's arses. And you're going to live. Then you're going to go on to do more brilliant things, I'm sure, and when you're finally ready, you're going to be a great mum like you've always wanted."

She looked up at him and felt like her heart would burst with love for him. He smiled at her and she felt her love grow stronger. Before she could think of what she was doing, she grabbed his hand and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. She drew back and beamed at him. "Thank you, Ron."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, just staring at each other like a couple of idiots. Then she realized something she had been worrying about. "What about you?"

"What?"

"Will you survive?" She frowned a little, feeling suddenly concerned that he won't look out for himself.

Ron shook his head slightly and smiled. "I don't know. I'll be too busy looking out for you."

Again, her heart nearly burst out of her chest with the love that poured into it. "Well, I guess that makes it my job to watch your back, then."

He smiled, lifting his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders. "You're brilliant, Hermione."

She didn't recall going to bed that night, the last thing she remembered was sitting on that couch with Ron's arm around her. Even so, she woke in the bedroom in Shell Cottage of which she and Luna shared.

* * *

><p>"Hermione!"<p>

She woke with a start to see two men standing over her, both with stupid grins on their faces.

"Look what we got," said Ron, thrusting a piece of parchment at her. She scanned it quickly and a huge grin spread across her face. "This is brilliant!" She threw herself into Ron's arms and hugged him tightly. She loosened her grip on him and tugged Harry into the embrace, squeezing the life out of her boys.

"Hermione, you're killing us!"

"Sorry," she said, her face flushed. "So they want both of you in the Auror program?"

"Yeah, and you got one too, Hermione!" Harry handed her an envelope and her eyes widened. "M-Me?"

"The Ministry knows who saved the wizarding world, they know I didn't do it alone," said Harry. "They want all of us as Aurors."

Hermione opened the letter and read through it. "I – I can't do it."

Ron's and Harry's gleeful expressions suddenly fell. "Why not?"

"I'm not a fighter," she said. "I've never wanted to be an Auror, I want to do something else, something more meaningful to me."

"You sure, Hermione?" asked Ron, his eyes trying to read hers.

"Yes," she smiled. "But don't let that stop you two from doing it."

"So, d'you think you'll survive without us if we have to go away on missions?" asked Harry teasingly.

She laughed. "I think I'll manage."

* * *

><p>She stared at herself in the mirror, rubbing her bulging belly as tears stained her face. She lifted her shirt halfway to stroke the ugly stretch marks that had appeared there in the last few months. She sighed as she rubbed some cream that George had sold her over the marks (Stretch Mark Vanishing Cream – Guaranteed to work in less than three minutes!) and pulled her shirt back down.<p>

She examined her body further, her eyes raking over the many scars she bore from the war. The thin, white line that ran across her neck still shone semi-brightly, reminding her of the most painful night of her life. Over her chest, she had a slash of a scar, which had been caused by a spell that had knocked her unconscious in her fifth year. The last thing she remembered was fighting Death Eaters in the Ministry, and then she was waking up in the hospital wing with Ron and Harry on either side of her.

There were more scars, but she could hardly remember where she had received each of them. The war had been a draining and painful experience, both emotionally and physically, and she bore more scars than an average young witch should.

She sighed as she took in her appearance once more. "I'm falling apart," she said aloud to herself.

"No you're not, you're pregnant."

The voice came out of nowhere and made her jump in surprise. She looked around and saw Ron leaning against the frame of the door, smirking at her.

"What's that look for?" she grumbled, turning back to the mirror. Ron approached her and wrapped his arms around her nonexistent waist, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"I just find it funny how you could think that of yourself. You know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, and that will still stand no matter what you look like."

She smiled for a split second, but it quickly disappeared when she caught sight of her abdomen in the mirror again. "I'm a planet, Ron," she said in a watery voice, tears forming in her eyes. "This baby's tearing me apart."

He held her closer and kissed her ear, looking deeper into her eyes in the glass. "You're not a planet, Hermione," he told her seriously. "You're pregnant. And once you have this baby, you'll be back to yourself again. But right now, you're carrying our child, and I couldn't be more grateful."

She was silent for a while, until she finally sighed and relaxed in Ron's arms. "I'm sorry I'm being like this. I know I've been complaining a lot, and it's really stressful on both of us."

Ron gently led her away from the mirror and onto the bed. "It's normal, love. I knew what I was getting into when we said we wanted kids, because I knew you would get upset when your body started to transform, like any pregnant woman would. But Hermione –" he cut off and gently put a hand on her belly, feeling the infant kick from the inside. "You're the bravest person in the world to me to go through this. I mean, you're carrying our _child_, and you had enough courage to go through all the pains of pregnancy to give us this child. I could _never_ do what you're doing, love. You have no idea how thankful I am for you, and how much I love you, Hermione."

Her eyes were shining with tears and she looked at him tenderly. "Thank you, Ron, but I've been taking advantage of you so much for the last few months, making you get everything for me when I have the ability to get it myself –"

"Hermione, those favors are the_ least_ I could do for you. For everything you go through on a daily basis, you deserve the world. In fact –" he got up and left the room, returning moments later with a huge bag that was covering something on a hanger. He laid it on the bed and said to her, "C'mon, open it then!"

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised, but pulled down the bag to reveal a long, sleek, black dress. She gasped and covered a hand over her mouth. "Ron –"

"You're beautiful, Hermione," he told her, "But I want you to think so too. One more thing –"

He reached into the drawer of the table on his side of the bed and withdrew a small box that clearly came from a jewelry store. He opened it to reveal a sparkling necklace of sapphires and diamonds. It wasn't over the top; it was simple. She knew that he knew that she wouldn't want anything to really call attention to herself.

"Ron," she laughed, "How much did this cost?"

"Doesn't matter," he told her, gently kissing her forehead. "You're worth it, Hermione."

She emitted a small squeak and fell into his arms. He embraced her, holding her as close as her large baby belly in between them would allow. When they broke apart, he kissed her soundly and said, "Now you get yourself into that dress. We have reservations at seven."

"What?" she asked in disbelief, but she was smiling. "Where?"

He grinned at her slyly. "You'll see."

"Why are you doing this, Ron?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Because you deserve it more than anyone, Hermione." He kissed her once more and winked at her, leaving her beaming at his generous gifts.

* * *

><p>After her daughter's birth, Rose Weasley became her world.<p>

On most days, her boss allowed her to bring Rose to work with her. Being one-third of the Golden Trio, she got special privileges over other Ministry workers of her status. It also helped that her husband was the Assistant Head Auror, and her best friend was Head Auror.

She took her daughter with her everywhere. She rarely needed someone to look after her, because she never wanted to miss a moment of her child's life. Ron, however, who was less patient than his wife, occasionally insisted they had to go out for some alone time, and Molly Weasley would gladly accept her granddaughter's company.

She was rarely a person to brag, but when it came to Rosie, she loved to show her off to others. People like Teddy Lupin and Ginny especially adored her. Teddy fell in love with every new life that was born into the Weasley family because, being an only child and most of the time only having the company of his grandmother, he was quite lonely while at home. He visited the Harry and Ginny and their children a lot though; he was always welcome at the Potters'. Ginny loved Rose because she insisted the child looked so much like her parents, it was uncanny. She had the trademark Weasley red hair, but she also was tall for her age, quite like Ron always had been. Her face was just like Hermione's, complete with brown eyes that were identical to her mother's.

Ron also adored Rose more than anything. He constantly informed anyone who would listen that his daughter would grow up to be the brightest witch in her year, just like her mother. When the child was two, he bought her a toy broomstick and her parents would watch her zoom around the yard on it. Ron then had a new concept to brag about: Rosie's future career as a Quidditch player.

It seemed impossible to not be proud of every move that her daughter made, every breath she took. Her parents both felt that she was their greatest creation, their work of art that had turned out so successful. She knew this feeling would never go away, and Ron felt the exact same way.

* * *

><p>The Potter fireplace erupted in green flames as she stepped out onto the hearth. Harry looked up from his newspaper, smirked, and looked back down again. "I take it that it's urgent?"<p>

She nodded guiltily. "I just…needed someone. I've been feeling lonely since Ron left for that mission, and I just need someone to be around."

Harry smirked again and met her eyes. "Well, I doubt I'll be able to fulfill the needs that Ron could satisfy –"

"Harry!" she looked reproachful at him, but she was forcing herself not to smile. "You know that's not what I meant!"

"I know. Where's your kid?"

"Dropped her off at the Burrow. I needed a break, and Molly was more than happy to take her. Remind me again, why didn't you go on this mission?"

Harry leaned back against the couch. "They allowed me to take a vacation. We're all allowed to take one mission off per year, and I just didn't feel up to this one. If they truly need me in an emergency, they can owl me."

She looked down at her hands, clasped together. Thoughts were swirling through her head, and, as she had expected, Harry noticed. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"I don't like it when you don't go on missions together," she said, trying to pick her words carefully. "You and Ron. I just think that if you're not there with him, he's…" she trailed off and put a hand over her mouth, thinking of what her husband could be doing at the moment.

Harry moved over to sit next to her, placing an arm around her. "He's a grown man, Hermione. He can take care of himself."

"I know that!" she exclaimed. "I just would feel more comfortable if you were together, you know…watching each other's backs."

Harry rubbed her arm consolingly. "There's other Aurors with him to look out for him. He'll be fine." He straightened his glasses and looked at the clock on the wall. "Ginny's out with James and Al. You want to go to the cinema? Maybe it'll take your mind off things."

She looked at him, taken aback. "The cinema? Yeah, I haven't seen a film in a really long time…I just don't get out into the muggle world as much."

"Me neither," said Harry. "I have no reason to, but sometimes I do miss the simple muggle things that I had growing up." He smiled her and she smiled back. That was the special connection she had with Harry; no matter how many times she introduced muggle things to Ron, he always thought of them as a foreign concept. With Harry, she needn't explain anything.

So she grasped Harry's hand and Disapparated with him to the muggle cinema in London. As they were heading into the theater, she whispered to him, "Just so you know, I'm glad you're my best friend, Harry Potter."

He grinned at her and squeezed her hand. "Me too, Hermione."

* * *

><p>She had never been particular best friends with Luna Lovegood.<p>

Luna was the exact opposite of her; therefore, looking at the situation logically, she could never be her friend. She was unrealistic, unpractical, and most of the time, had her head in the clouds.

But after the war, she had grown to love Luna as she had loved all her friends. There became a particular day where she found she needed Luna more than ever.

She had been noticing something different about her son, and it worried her. Hugo was fifteen, so he was in his teenage angst stage, but his mother thought there was something more. She noticed great differences in his attitude and his actions. He slumped around the house when he was home from Hogwarts, and he spent most of his time in his room. She was afraid he had fallen into some sort of depression. She confronted her husband, but Ron was lost on what to do.

Knowing that one of Luna's twin boys, Lysander, had been diagnosed with such a deep depression that it was close to suicide, she knew she needed to face her old friend.

She met Luna at the Leaky Cauldron, and explained her worries. Luna showed no other emotion than quiet attentiveness all through her explanation, and when she was finished, there was a long pause until Luna spoke.

"Well, I think the best way to figure this out is to confront him. Ask him if he's feeling unhappy. Most of the time, teens love to hide their feelings, so if you feel like he's lying to you when he tells you he's fine, I would have someone else talk to him. Someone you think he'll open up to. Is there anyone in his life who's like that?"

She didn't even need to think; the name came to her instantly.

"George." Hugo had always admired George, especially since he thought his uncle had the coolest job in the world: owning the joke shop. Even in his depressed state, she still knew her son talked to George on many occasions.

Luna covered her hand with her own. "Have George talk to him. If he's still not talking and you're still worried, come to me. I can get you the names of a few professionals who could help."

"Thank you, Luna," she replied, feeling relieved at her friend's response. "You've been so helpful."

Luna smiled vaguely. "I do have a feeling that you're not going to need those names, though. I think Hugo's alright; he's just going through a temporary state, like most teenagers."

"I hope so," she said, but she already felt the same way. Something about Luna kept her calm; she did have that effect on the people around her.

* * *

><p>Her life had begun to become hectic in the last few months. Hugo was engaged to get married in a few months to the daughter of Seamus Finnigan, and Rose and Scorpius were expecting their first child in the matter of months. She was ecstatic about these events in her life, and she couldn't be more proud of her children.<p>

Ron however, wasn't as excited about his daughter having a child with a Malfoy. He didn't react well when he found out they were getting married, and the baby only fueled the fire. He also seemed to be having a bit of a mid-life crisis, insisting to go out and party every weekend. On that note, Hugo's wedding and Rose's baby didn't help; they only made him feel older.

One day, Rose and Scorpius came to have dinner with her and Ron. She was more than happy to catch up with her daughter and her husband, but she noticed that Ron was quite sulky the whole night.

"You're absolutely _glowing,_ darling!" she gushed over her daughter, whose baby belly was protruding away from her torso much farther than the last time she had seen her. Rose smiled and blushed as Scorpius met his wife's eyes and kissed her forehead lovingly. Despite his family's history, Scorpius Malfoy was a quiet and modest man, much different than anyone else in his family.

Later that night, when Rose and Scorpius left, she faced her husband, who was sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, looked quite peeved. His wife shot daggers at him and placed her hands on her hips.

"You know, your attitude is scaring the boy to death. He thinks you hate him, and he doesn't know why."

He rubbed his temples and scowled at her. "I don't hate him, I just hate his family. In case you forgot, his family hosted the place where _you _were tortured!"

She felt like he had slapped her in the face. "Scorpius Malfoy had nothing to do with that night," she said, her voice deadly calm. She pointed a threatening finger at him. "You would do well to learn that that is all in the past, and your son-in-law wasn't even born until eight years after that night."

She left the room to allow her husband to ponder what she had just said. Not long after, he wandered into the kitchen, where she was washing the dishes.

"I'm sorry."

She turned to face him, and his expression showed that he truly meant it. "You know I'm a git, Hermione. I just can't get over what his family has done, especially to Harry and you."

She crossed her arms and looked at him with a slight frown. "Well, you'll going to have to get over it, Ron. Scorpius isn't his father, or his grandfather, for that matter. You have to learn that just because he looks like his Draco; it doesn't mean he _is_ Draco."

She turned away again, and after a few moments, Ron's lips found her cheek as he kissed her and left the room.

* * *

><p>Her life was slowly ending. She could hardly get out of bed each morning, and Ron took care of her most of the time, despite the fact that he was also in a weak state.<p>

Harry had left them a few years previously, causing a deep depression to open up over the wizarding world. People were mourning for months for the wizard who had saved them so many years ago. She, Ron and Ginny were more upset than anyone; despite the fact that he had been quite old, they still had been through everything together.

She was proud of the life that they had had. She had accomplished more than the average witch, and she had found happiness, unlike a lot of people on earth. She had had children, grandchildren,_ and_ great-grandchildren, whom she couldn't be more proud of. She had found someone who she had grown to love at only the age of eleven. Her childhood was scarred, but she found out later that if she hadn't experienced it, she wouldn't be such an inspiration to the wizarding world.

She was lying in bed when Ron slowly made his way into the room, sitting down and taking her withered hand in his. "How are you, Hermione?"

She exhaled shakily, dreading what she had to tell him. "I'm dying, Ron. I can feel it."

As she had expected, tears began to well in the corners of his crinkled blue eyes. "Why, Hermione?"

"It's just my time, love," she tried to squeeze his hand to comfort him, but she was too weak. "I love you so much, Ron. We've had a good run, haven't we?"

He smiled a bit through his tears. "Sp'ose. You're my world, Hermione. I can't let you leave."

"I'm not gone yet," she grinned shakily. "And you'll be with me. Before you know it."

He leaned forward and gently kissed her hand, tenderly squeezing it. "I love you, Hermione."

She smiled as her eyelids slowly began to close, and before she knew it, she was gone from him.

* * *

><p>She had woken in a beautiful place. Every single person who had died in her life was there: Harry, her parents, Tonks, Lupin, Fred. They were all young and youthful, as she was. They embraced her and welcomed her, all of them crying with joy.<p>

She wasn't as joyful though. Ron wasn't there, and she couldn't stand to know that he was a world away from her. Harry explained that time went fast here; that Ron would be with them very soon.

It seemed as if it had only been hours since she died when she and Harry came across a sleeping body in their pathway. They leaned down and she recognized the familiar redhead, her heart beating faster and faster as they woke their friend.

He looked like he did when he was twenty-one, they time of his life where he looked better than ever. She flew into his arms, crying with happiness as Harry wrapped his arms around their bodies, the Golden Trio finally reunited.


	3. Harry

He had never belonged in the muggle world. The family he had grown up with had always made him feel like an outcast, like he didn't belong. The fact that he could speak to snakes and that his hair grew back instantly overnight after cutting it made him feel uneasy about who he was.

However, when he got his invitation to Hogwarts, he began to feel like less of a freak and more hopeful. Maybe the wizarding world would actually accept him.

It was overwhelming when he learned how famous he was. He was forced to get used to the stares and the whispers that followed him down the corridors of Hogwarts as he tried to blend in as much as possible.

As much as his fame set him apart from his school, the two people who made him feel completely normal were Ron and Hermione. The fact that they didn't stare at him like he was a freak or ask about his tragic past made him feel completely comfortable in their presence.

As he slowly made it through his years at Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione stayed by his side, no matter how horrific his life got. They had their fallouts, all three of them, but they always patched things up. They couldn't bear to argue for too long because if there was one missing from the Golden Trio, it was like the other two didn't exist at all.

When he sat down to think about it one day after the war was over, he realized that he couldn't be more thankful for his two best friends and their acceptance for him.

* * *

><p>"Is it <em>really<em> true Hermione's going to the Ball with Krum?"

He raised an eyebrow as he continued to write his essay for Defense against the Dark Arts. "I don't know, mate. I can't keep up with you two anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked up to find his best friend staring at him, a look of hurt frozen on his face. His fingers played with his quill as he said, "You know what I'm talking about. You two are always at each other, and I wish you would just get on with it –"

"What are you on about? Get on with what?"

He finally finished the essay, and rolled it up carefully after waiting for the ink to dry. "I'm just saying that maybe if _you_ had asked her first, she wouldn't be going with Krum."

Ron looked scandalized, but his friend only stuffed his essay into his bag and left for the boys' dorms. Someday, his two friends would understand what he and the rest of the world have seen for so long.

* * *

><p>At the end of his sixth year, he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny became closer than ever before. Maybe it was the fact that he was dating Ginny, or the fact that Ron and Hermione seemed to be getting along better, especially after the whole Lavender fiasco. Whatever the reason was, he felt happier than he had ever felt at Hogwarts.<p>

On one sunny Saturday, the four of them were spread out under their favorite shady tree by the lake. Ginny was sitting against the trunk with his head in her lap as she played with his hair. On the other side, Ron was lying with his legs out in front of him and his head against the tree as his eyes remained on Hermione, who was sitting next to him reading a book.

He didn't know why he loved these lazy days at Hogwarts so much; maybe it was because he didn't need to worry about Voldemort's next move, or homework, or...anything. All he could think about was the way Ginny's hands were working their way through his hair and the flowery scent of her body against his. Maybe it was because feeling the presence of his three best friends was all that he needed. Whatever the reason, he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, come over here."<p>

His friend looked up from the open mouth of the tent, a slight frown on her cold, pink face. She wrapped the blanket around her tighter and said in a hollow voice, "I'm on watch, Harry."

He smirked slightly. "You can be off watch for a few minutes. We'll keep our eyes open." The two of them both knew he wasn't talking about Death Eaters.

She sighed and stood up, walking over to him and sat down next to him on the shabby couch. He noticed there were prominent shadows under her eyes, and tear stains trailed down her face. She looked awful, but he couldn't blame her. She had been crying nonstop for the last week.

This is why he had brought out the Gobstones game that she had brought along in her small beaded bag only moments before. Their best friend had left only days before, but he reckoned Hermione needed a distraction.

As he set up the marbles, she picked up the only orange Gobstone in the set. He froze as she rolled it around in her fingers; they both knew that had been Ron's lucky marble, the one he always used. She stifled a sob and he abandoned the Gobstones to embrace her. She wrapped her own arms around his waist, crying silently into his shoulder. He didn't allow his own tears to fall; he was still much too angry with Ron.

Finally, he pulled away and gently opened her tense fingers to take the orange marble. "We won't play with this one," he told her. He thrust in back into the Gobstones bag and continued to set up the game.

When they started to play, they began to tease each other about their aim and their skill. At one point, he actually saw a smile cross her face and heard her laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. It suddenly made him feel much better about their situation and the war.

For the hour or so that they played, the two of them forgot about their missing friend temporarily and they were able to indulge in a childlike game for the first time in years.

* * *

><p>The three of them had barely entered the boy's dorms before collapsing in a heap on the closest bed together, their limbs tangled together as they immediately fell asleep.<p>

He opened his eyes after what felt like an eternity, and was met by the sound of Hermione's soft breathing and Ron's heavy snoring. Someone had removed his glasses and put them on the side table.

He sat up and looked over at his two best friends. They both looked extremely scarred; both emotionally and physically. Hermione was sleeping in between the two boys, the scar from Bellatrix's knife still prominent against her pale neck. Small bruises, cuts, and scars covered her body beneath the dirt that had somewhat hidden them. Her brow was furrowed in her sleep, as if she were having a bad dream.

Ron, on the other hand, didn't look as disturbed mentally, but his face still showed that he had fought a war. His freckles were covered with soot, blood, and sweat, and there were several angry burns on his body and clothes where he hadn't quite avoided the Fiendfyre.

They had fought a war for seven years, a little under half their lives, actually. And now, they all could finally breathe.

* * *

><p>The Burrow was bustling with people. It was two weeks after the end of the war, and grief still hung over the house. However, Molly Weasley, who was using the excuse to throw a celebration party in honor of him, Ron and Hermione as her coping mechanism, was floating between the guests, keeping busy and her mind off of her lost son.<p>

He stood in the corner with Ginny and a glass of firewhisky, not exactly happy, but not depressed either. He was coming along, like the people around him, and soon, with time, the scars of the war would slowly start to heal.

He watched as his friends danced in the backyard to the music Molly had put together. She had hired a small band, as if the party were a repeat of her son's wedding. Nobody seemed to mind; it seemed to be a great distraction from their grief.

His eyes floated from different dancing couples: Bill and Fleur, Neville and Luna (who had invited the poor boy to the dance floor, and he now looked like he would rather be anywhere but), Seamus and Lavender, Percy and his new girlfriend Audrey. His eyes finally landed on Ron and Hermione, who were spinning and laughing in the center of the dance floor. He smiled slightly at the sight of seeing them so happy; they truly deserved it. Hermione looked over Ron's shoulder and met his eyes, smiling and waving at him. Ron turned and grinned at him before spinning Hermione once more.

Andromeda suddenly appeared beside him and Ginny, her dark hair pulled back and a glass of gillywater in hand. To this day, her appearance still startled him; she always had looked alarmingly like her late sister.

"Hello, Harry," she smiled warmly at him and he forgot about her similarities with Bellatrix. "I just arrived. I was wondering…do you want to meet your godson?"

This caught him by surprise, and he looked at Ginny, who nodded encouragingly. He turned back to Andromeda and nodded. She smiled and said, "Come on, he's inside with Molly."

He followed Andromeda with Ginny in tow into the kitchen, where the child, who he had seen in the picture Remus had shown him only weeks before, was in the arms of Molly. They were almost obscured from view because of the amount of fawning women around them.

He suddenly stopped; what had Remus been thinking? How could he be a godfather? If something happened to Andromeda, he would be next in line to take care of the child, and he would have no idea where to start.

He sat down in an armchair in the living room, and not long after, Teddy suddenly appeared out of the crowd in Andromeda's arms, and he was abruptly, but gently, pushed into his godfather's arms.

He had never held an infant before; it wasn't exactly the easiest thing to figure out. He thought about it and almost laughed; he could defeat the evilest man on the planet, but here he couldn't hold a baby.

Ginny smiled and took pity on him; she kneeled next to him and positioned his hands so he was cradling the child's head with one hand, and the rest of his body with his other. He grinned at her gratefully as he looked down at his godson.

He was still so small, even though he was almost a month old. His hair wasn't changing as fast as it was in the photo he had seen, but had settled on a bright red to match the Weasleys'.

However, the infant's eyes were changing from brown to green as he looked up at the man holding him and smiled. Ginny laughed as his hair started to change to a jet black, slowly making him look like a miniature version of his godfather.

"I think you can handle him now," said Ginny, as she kissed his forehead and left for the backyard once again.

When she was gone, he looked back down at his godson, who was slowly drifting off to sleep, his hair still black. "I'm going to take care of you, Ted," he told the infant. "I know what you're going to go through, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way, I promise."

* * *

><p>He knocked on the door to the room in which the bride was getting ready, and Luna opened it.<p>

"Hi, Harry," she said vaguely. "I was just about to go speak to Neville. It's a good thing you weren't Ronald, its bad luck for him to see the bride."

He stepped inside as Luna left, shutting the door behind her. He looked up and saw Hermione in her wedding dress for the first time.

The gown was made of silk, and its train was two feet long. It had a V-neckline, and no sleeves. It was simple, but it fit Hermione. She wore a crown made of silver and was set with sapphires, which held her lace veil in place that ran down over her elaborate curls.

"Wow," he said, fully appreciating his friend's beauty for the first time. "You look amazing, Hermione."

She blushed, and straightened the crown. "Really?"

"Yeah," he approached her and hugged her tightly. He felt her kiss his cheek and he grinned. "Ron's going to go mad when he sees you."

Her face fell slightly. "Have you spoken to him? Is he still…around? He's not going to run for it, is he?"

He gripped her shoulders gently. "Hermione, that's the last thing he wants to do. Yeah, he's a little nervous, but that's because he thinks _you_ mightrun for it. You both just need to loosen up a bit."

She hugged him again and mumbled into his shoulder, "I love you, Harry." He grinned and pulled away. "I love you too, Hermione. And don't be nervous, alright? You and Ron are perfect for each other, and there's no way he's running from you."

She smiled again, this time with more confidence, and he left the room with a slight smile on his face.

* * *

><p>After a long and stressful day in the Auror Department, he opened the door to his flat and called out to his wife. "Ginny! You home yet?"<p>

When he heard nothing, he assumed she was still at her press meeting with the Holyhead Harpies. She had played Seeker on the team for four years, and had become quite famous, both for being one of the team's best players and for being married to Harry Potter. It was only a few months ago when she had become Captain of the team.

He entered the bedroom to change out of his work robes, and was met by his redhead wife sprawled on their bed, several papers spread out around her as she wrote furiously on the parchment in front of her.

"Ginny."

She looked up and mumbled, "Hi."

"I called out to you, why didn't you answer?"

"Oh," she continued to write and didn't look up. "I was…things…didn't hear you."

She was so distracted that she could barely make out a comprehensible sentence. He wondered vaguely why she was acting so Hermioneish, but he merely smirked and approached her, slowly tugging the parchment out from under her quill. She looked up and her brown eyes flashed dangerously. He, however, only looked challengingly at her and looked at the parchment. "What is this?"

"Well, I have to write out some plays for the next game, and we need a new Chaser, since Angelina is leaving because of her pregnancy. Plus, since I'll be leaving as well, I have to schedule the upcoming games, and write out more plays…" she trailed off as she tugged the parchment out of her husband's hands and continued to write.

It didn't register to him what she had said until he had removed his work shirt and froze with his hand in the drawer. He turned slowly and his eyes settled on his wife. "What did you say?"

She put the quill down and folded her hands. "Well, I'm going to be taking a break from the team for at least the next nine months, probably more."

He looked down at the floor, trying to piece together what she was saying. "Ginny, are you saying - ?"

She smiled up at him, and squeezed his hand. "I'm _pregnant,_ Harry."

There was a second's pause, and he suddenly tackled her onto the bed, kissing every inch of her face. She laughed as he gently nibbled her ear, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck. He emerged and softly kissed her lips. "Are you serious? We're really going to have a baby?"

She nodded, and a thousand questions came bursting out of him. "I'm going to be a dad? This is so exciting! Have you told anyone else? Do you know how far along you are? Merlin, who should we tell first? Gin, this is the best thing to ever happen to us –"

She laughed as he continued to ramble, kissing his bare shoulder, as he looked lovingly at her.

His long and stressful day had suddenly become wonderful and amazing.

* * *

><p>The letter came to him at seven in the morning.<p>

The owl they had bought after the war, Mercury, was hooting from the kitchen as he rolled over and groaned. Ginny stirred next to him and pushed on his back. "Harry, go answer the owl."

He yawned sleepily, put on his glasses, and got up, wandering downstairs with his eyes half-closed. He untied the letter from Mercury and gave her an owl treat. She nibbled his finger affectionately and flew off into the sunrise.

The envelope had a Ministry seal on it, and he figured it was important. He tore open the letter and his eyes widened as they rolled across the page.

"Ginny! GINNY!"

His wife wandered into the kitchen, her pregnant belly jutting out of her torso and her expression livid. "Harry Potter! What's your problem? Why are you yelling at the crack of dawn - ?"

He thrust the parchment at her and she looked down at it. "They made me Head Auror."

Her angry stare evaporated and turned into a look of happiness.

"Harry that's brilliant!" she threw her arms around him and he hugged her the best he could with their unborn child between them. She kissed him gently and looked up at him lovingly, her brown eyes sparkling. "We're both so proud of you, Harry."

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her giant belly, pressing his hand against it as he felt the baby kick within her.

* * *

><p>"Hermione's pregnant."<p>

He turned and faced his best friend, who was smiling sheepishly. He grinned at the redhead and embraced him, thumping him on the back.

"That's brilliant, Ron! Merlin, I can't believe this is happening to you two…"

"I know," Ron looked a bit awkward. "I - I really don't know what to make of it. I don't really know where to go from here."

His friend clamped his shoulder. "Well, speaking as someone who's already been through this, you just need to be there for her. And above all, do _not_ get her angry. If you think fighting with Hermione is bad now, it's nothing compared to a hormonal pregnant woman."

Ron looked terrified, but he just laughed. "You'll be fine, mate. Just remember that if your kid is really powerful and magical, it might affect Hermione."

Ron looked at him in panic. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when Ginny was pregnant with James, if she became mad, she could kind of do uncontrolled magic without a wand, like a small child. It's sort of the child's magic mixing with the woman's hormones. It doesn't happen to everyone; usually the child doesn't show their magic until they're four or five years old. But I've heard stories like ours, and if Hermione encounters that, you probably want to watch out."

Ron was looking quite pale, his freckles standing out against his face. "I don't think I can do this."

"You can," his friend said bracingly. "You'll get the hang of it by the time the second one comes around."

Ron looked like he may be sick.

* * *

><p>He held the tickets out to the security wizard and the man nodded at him, allowing him into the Quidditch stadium.<p>

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter," said the man, grinning at him.

"Thanks, Lee." He led his sons through the doors to the stadium, and the security wizard tipped his hat to the three Potters, murmuring, "Evening, young Potters" to his boys, as he did every time they attended one of Ginny's games.

They didn't go much, even though he tried not to miss too many. The Auror Department kept him busy, and even though he automatically got free tickets for being the husband of Ginny Weasley, he ended up missing quite a lot of games, rarely bringing his sons to watch her play.

As he entered the stadium with Albus in his arms and James holding his hand, he realized how much he missed Quidditch. He hadn't gotten to play a game with anyone for quite a long time; ever since he and his friends had started their families, they had put aside the fun activities they used to live for. He didn't regret having his children; they were his world. He just felt like he had lost himself in his family life.

The moment Ginny came flying out onto the pitch, her family (as well as the rest of the stadium) erupted into cheers. She had become quite famous, and her fans were very loyal to her.

He watched the game with more attention than usual, observing the way his wife scanned the arena for the Snitch. Her gaze was more intense than he had ever seen; the only other time he had seen that look on her face was in the Battle of Hogwarts, as he watched her combat with Death Eaters. Every once in a while, she sped past their seats and waved at her children, who laughed and waved back.

Not even half an hour into the game, he watched as Ginny sped past them once more, this time much faster. Only his previous Quidditch experience caused him to know that she had spotted the Snitch. The opposing team's Seeker saw the Snitch a second too late, because moments later, Ginny had caught the golden ball and won the game for her team, thirty points ahead.

"That's my girl!" he yelled, cheering and whooping louder than the rest of the crowd. When the team retreated to the locker room, he led his children out of the crowd and down onto the field where they waited for Ginny to come out.

She returned a half an hour later, now dressed in her jersey and jeans, and threw herself into his arms. He grinned and lifted her off her feet, spinning her in a circle. He kissed her gently and put her back down. "You did brilliant, love," he told her. She smiled and kissed him once more before bending down and lifting her youngest son, grinning at her two boys.

"Ginny," her coach, Lawrence, suddenly appeared at her shoulder. "The press wants to speak with the team inside." His eyes landed on her husband. "Mr. Potter, would you like to speak to them as well? I'm sure they would love to hear about what's happening in your lives."

He studied the coach and finally said, "Could you give us a moment?" Lawrence nodded and hurried off. When her husband caught sight of her, Ginny's face had fallen.

"The press," she groaned to her husband. "I really don't want to talk to them. And I don't want to expose James and Al to them yet. They're much too young; it'll be too much of a shock."

"I don't either," he agreed. "You know we don't have to talk to them, just tell your coach that you can't."

Ginny looked apprehensively over her shoulder, Albus still in her arms. She looked back and he watched her eyes widen as she grabbed him arm and began tugging him toward the exit to the stadium. "The press, they're here. Just keep walking, they won't recognize us."

Behind him, he heard the sound of dozens of people yelling his name, along with Ginny's. He quickened his pace, his hand in his eldest son's. However, when he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye, he grabbed James and swung him into his arms, pulling the hood of his cloak to cover his face, and looked down at the ground, avoiding any eye contact with any of the cameras.

Outside the stadium, he grabbed his wife's hand and, forgetting the fact that his children had never Apparated before, quickly Disapparated to their home in Godric's Hollow.

That night, he made an elaborate dinner in celebration of Ginny's victory. He smiled as he looked around the table at his family. He and his wife struggled to hide their family from the press, and at the end of the day, he couldn't be more glad that they still were uncertain about their parents' fame.

* * *

><p>His godson had always held a special place in his heart.<p>

Before his children were born, Teddy was like a son to him. They had so much in common, just like he had had with Sirius. They were both orphans, so they had a mutual understanding of curiosity to know what their parents were like. He began to tell stories of the child's parents to him when he was very young. He showed Teddy pictures of his parents and tried to engrave the memories in his brain early, so as he didn't need to grow up completely clueless of his parents like his godfather.

Nevertheless, Teddy still had loads of questions when he was older, because despite all the pictures and stories his godfather had told, he still hadn't ever known his parents, and no amount of memories told by the people around him could change that.

His godfather knew exactly how he felt; he knew that there would always be a hole inside him that could never be filled no matter how much he knew about his parents.

* * *

><p>His daughter was very special to him. She was his last child, and his first daughter. There was something extraordinary about having a girl; both Ron and Bill had informed him this.<p>

"You want to protect her from everything," Ron told him. "She just seems more fragile than a boy." His firstborn had been Rose, who had grown to be anything but fragile.

"She's not more important than a son," said Bill, "She's just… more of a challenge." He had had his two daughters, Victoire and Dominique, before his son Louie.

When Lily was born, she opened up a whole new world to her father. For example, when they visited the Weasley Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley, she would tug him over to the side of the shop that was bright pink, which he never really had ever visited.

When she was older, she introduced him to "girl talk", such as boys, gossip, and _Witch Weekly_. As Hermione and his wife had saved their "girl talk" for each other when they had been growing up, he never had been forced to converse with anyone about womanly things.

Lily, however, seemed to have some sort of comfort when talking to her father about her feminine world. Sometimes, she didn't even bother going to her mother first; she would go straight to him. It fascinated him that she was so open about everything to him, when most girls wouldn't talk to their father about their secret lives.

It was odd, but every time she came to him, he was reminded how much she cared about her daddy.

* * *

><p>It was the end of the summer when he looked up as his fireplace burned green and Teddy Lupin appeared covered in soot and stepping onto the hearth.<p>

"Hi, Ted," he said, shuffling his newspaper. "Need something?"

"Yeah," said the fifteen-year-old, his hair black today, matching his godfather's. "Harry, I need to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Victoire." Teddy's face flushed red and his godfather grinned teasingly.

"Okay, we can talk about Victoire."

Teddy raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you know the Triwizard Tournament is this year, right?"

He frowned, straightening his glasses. "No, I didn't. Did you get an owl?"

"Grandmum did," said Teddy. He looked extremely uncomfortable, fidgeting and shifting his weight from leg to leg. His godfather narrowed his eyes.

"Ted, you're not thinking of trying to enter underage, are you? Believe me, there's nothing that will work when it comes to that, Fred and George made sure of that –"

"No, it's nothing like that!" Teddy looked panicked under pressure now. "I'm just thinking – when the time comes, of course – who I should ask to the Yule Ball."

His godfather stared, a teasing smile beginning to pull at his lips. Teddy saw his expression and sighed dramatically. "I knew this would be useless. I'm just going to go home –"

"Wait, Ted."

He rose and gripped the teenager's shoulder. "I know for a fact that anyone you ask will say yes."

Teddy looked at him skeptically. "Even someone who is part-veela?"

"_Especially_ someone who is part-veela," he said with an eyebrow raised. "You've got a quirky charm that your parents always had, mate. Believe me when I say that Victoire will be _waiting_ for your invitation."

Teddy smiled and embraced his godfather. "Thanks, Harry. By the way, did you end up going with Ginny at your Yule Ball?"

He laughed. "No, she went with Neville, believe it or not. I went with a girl in my class as a complete last resort, and it turned out to be a total disaster. Mind you, I was sort of in the middle of Ron and Hermione's little spat; they didn't go with each other either. So for your own sake Ted, don't follow in my footsteps."

* * *

><p>"JAMES SIRIUS POTTER!"<p>

His wife's voice rang out through the house, and he shuddered to think what his eldest son had done now. He sighed and got up from his desk, wandering into the kitchen where a red-faced Ginny stood with her hands on her hips in front of her sixteen-year-old son, who was cowering under the daggers he was receiving from his mother's eyes.

"James, I've had it!" she yelled. "If you don't quit these pranks, you're going to get yourself kicked out of school –"

"Mum, it was harmless!" protested her son. "Filch barely felt a thing! Anyway, it was Fred's idea!"

"I'm owling George," said Ginny, grabbing the nearest quill and parchment. "I'm telling him you're not allowed to buy any more of his products –"

"Mum –"

"_Furthermore, _I will be raiding your room for any other fireworks and toys your uncle has allowed you to purchase from his stupid shop. It was funny and cute when he opened it with Fred, but –" she gave a slight gasp at her own mention at her dead brother's name. Without any warning, tears began to fall down her face and she started to sob.

At this point, her husband stepped in. "James, go to your room." His son didn't protest and left the room.

He approached his wife and embraced her, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder. He could feel her choked gasps vibrating off his body, and he wanted more than anything to protect her from her own emotions.

She finally pulled away from him and he wiped her tears away as she met his eyes. "It was his birthday today."

"I know."

She sighed. "I don't even know why I'm so upset. It's been years, and I've gone through the last few years without really acknowledging it –"

He carefully cupped her face and kissed her gently. "It's just something you're never going to get over, love. You've been numbing the pain for the last few years, and you've finally allowed yourself to break down."

She sniffed, crossing her arms over her body. "It's just that…James _knows _that he died in the war, he knows what he died for, and he sets off fireworks in the Great Hall on his birthday? It's just so disrespectful –"

He smiled slightly. "Maybe that was the point. I don't think James' intentions were too terrible, I think he knew that Fred and George were known for their fireworks, and this was his way of honoring them on their birthday."

Ginny seemed to think this over. "Well…I suppose…but I'm still confiscating all his fireworks! Merlin knows we don't need another letter sent home from McGonagall…"

He only smiled as he kissed his wife and returned to his office.

* * *

><p>His second son was graduating Hogwarts.<p>

It was amazing to think back seven years before, and remember the day he stood on Platform Nine and Three Quarters as he convinced his son to treat all the Houses as equals.

Now Albus stood in the middle of the castle's courtyard with his cousin Rose and the rest of his year, all lined up in alphabetical order, and ready to pursue their futures.

This moment made him think of the opportunities that had passed him by. He never got to graduate, because he was too busy trying to conquer the most evil Dark Lord of all time. He never got a chance to be a seventh year, and to have a go at all the privileges that came with being a seventh year. As he pondered this, it filled him with more happiness that his children hadn't had the same life he had had.

His son was graduating, something that he could say (with some shame) he did not do.

* * *

><p>His old age had long ago slowed him down. Now, all he could do was wait for the day that he left his family and friends for the next step in his eternal journey.<p>

He was sitting on his porch next to Ginny as the sun set when he knew it was going to happen. He squeezed his wife's hand and she looked at him, worry etched over her wrinkled face.

"What is it, Harry?"

"Gin…" his voice came out raspy and shaky, and he watched as tears began to form in her eyes. "Ginny, I love you."

She smiled through her tears and slowly kissed his forehead. "I love you too, Harry."

They sat together in silence as the sun sank further over the horizon, Ginny watching him anxiously and holding both his hands.

He kissed her one last time and just before night fell, he closed his eyes for the last time and sank into a sleep he would never wake from.


	4. Acknowledgements to Potter

As we carry on through the end of the Potter phenomenon, we must remember why we've followed Harry through his adventures for so long.  
>I think I speak for all of the Potter fans when I say Harry has been a sort of hope for all of us. As we followed him through his seven years at Hogwarts, we witnessed the dark and miserable times he was forced to endure. We watched how he handles these experiences, and he turned into a certain hero for all of us.<br>In the first book, the story starts out simple, an ordinary boy finding out that he is a wizard, and attends a school for people like him. As the series grew, the books got deeper into the details of the story, branching out into different concepts and storylines. Not only did we watch the story grow, but we watched Harry grow as well.  
>There's something in the soul of a human being that attracts the desire to watch a person grow, no matter if they're fictional or not. Before the Potter series was written, children rarely came across a series in which the character grew in age; they always seemed to be locked in the same time period, repeating the same kind of adventures. When Jo Rowling introduced Harry to the publishing companies, it became a very new and different idea.<br>In my personal opinion, I believe the number one attraction to the Potter series has been the fact that we get to witness Harry grow, both physically and emotionally. We've watched him grow from the boy under the cupboard, to an angsty adolescence, and finally to a man who has lost everything, and is still willing to sacrifice himself for anyone.  
>I think this is why we admire Harry so much. He is the classic hero, but his everyday life is still as average as any wizard. He makes both friends and enemies, struggles through his classes, visits Hogsmeade with his classmates, and happens to battle Voldemort when he has the time.<br>The story of Harry Potter is as typical as any good versus evil plot, but for some reason, we are still attracted to it. Everyone has a different reason when it comes to this. Some stay with the series because they enjoy the romantic side of the story. Some are attracted to the fantasy-adventure genre of the series. When I think of the reasons why I love the series, there are, of course, many. I've grown to love not only Harry, but the other characters as well. I love Ron and Hermione and their loyalty to Harry. I've grown to love every plot in the books because they all are so different from each other. Finally, when I think of J.K. Rowling, I consider her the Shakespeare of modern literature.  
>As an obsessive fan of this brilliant series, I would like to thank every person who has been involved in this phenomenon, of which the number, I'm sure, is in the millions.<br>First and foremost, I need to thank Jo Rowling and her absolute genius mind for thinking up such a world-changing story. We would never have gotten so many children to read without her series.  
>Next, I want to thank every director, producer, and crew member who was involved in the films for making the books come to life on screen. Film is always a huge step in a phenomenon and each movie did the books justice.<br>I also want to thank the actors of the movies, especially the Golden Trio. As well as watching the fictional characters grow through the books, we've also watched the actors grow on screen for the last ten years. It's amazing that we've kept the same actors for the main characters for that long, and I think Dan Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson deserve a huge thank you for this.  
>Lastly, I want to thank all my fellow fans for sticking by the series for as long as we have. I was completely influenced by the popularity of the novels when I started to read them, and if it wasn't for Harry's fans, I still wouldn't have picked up the books.<br>The books and the films may be over, but the phenomenon will still live on through its future fans. People will continue to discover the series for years to come, and even Jo Rowling refuses that it's over. Clearly, this is why she came up with Pottermore.  
>We've had our last battle of our generation. We've made it, Potter monsters! I love anyone who has supported Harry, new fan or old. Let's keep his spirit alive by remembering his unforgettable journey for years to come!<p>

SUPPORT DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY!

-!B!-


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